Freak
by CapraParsay
Summary: He is what he is because she made him that way.
1. Fascination

Chapter 1

**A/N (IMPORTANT, READ FIRST): ****This piece is Rated M for a reason, please bear that in mind. It is almost completely canon as it takes place one year before Tris' initiation. The only difference is initiation begins at age 18 not 16. If you think about it, Theo James and Jai Courtney are almost 30 anyway so it isn't too hard to imagine.**

**Eric is based on Jai Courtney's portrayal in the film.**

**If he seems OOC in any way to you then believe me it is ALL due to character development. **

**Please enjoy and review.**

* * *

A twisted smile played on her lips, it proved a firm prison for the bubble of laughter that begged to tear through her throat and fill the empty air. Unbearable heat had exploded in to jets of calm that washed over her and Mila was brought once more in to delicious delirium.

She gazed down at her wrists and frowned, these bindings were doing her nails no good at all. They were much too long, all it would take was a simple nibble and all would be well. It was unreasonable to say the least, that she should be denied the right to fix such a problem. These people were mad.

It wasn't the infirmary, father would never dare open her up to such ridicule. This was a far more private institute, somewhere to heal in peace. Mila savoured this sense of Zen, for soon it would be gone, and so would the safety net.

Everything began with the sickness, a churning sensation in the pit of her stomach that rendered the world in to a black and white void.

A nightmare she yearned for, this was worse, this was…empty.

Her father's face was a myriad of deepened lines and sallow skin. Each step towards her was slow, dispassionate; it carried the weight of his indifference.

"Where?" he drawled, slumping in to the chair by her bed.

"By the dining hall."

He inhaled sharply, a huff of impatience. _Be gone child, _she saw his thoughts as though they were imprinted on his very person.

"Did anyone see?"

She kept her unusually wide gaze trained on him, never blinking. Mila was aware how this unnerved him, and how her father hated to be unnerved, it soon turned to resentment, which then turned to anger. _Good. Let him fester._

"No. They attacked when I was least expecting. I was powerless to stop it," she breathed softly and smiled again. It was almost feral, purposely so, the canines protruded ever so slightly, small blunted fangs.

His watery stare slid over her weakened form, mouth curling in a sickened grimace.

"I don't want you going anywhere alone."

"Really?" she said, eyes flashing. "You don't want that?"

"From now on you'll be assigned an escort," he leaned in and fixed her with a firm look, no longer the disapproving parent but a powerful figure. The respected and _fearless _Dauntless Leader. "I don't want this happening again."

"We can't have _anything _tarnishing our reputation, can we father?"

"All I want is for you to be safe," he assured, though the words lacked any semblance of conviction.

Mila rotated her wrists slowly beneath the leather straps.

"I'd like to go now please."

Her words fell on deaf ears as he rose from his chair and addressed the nurse who had been assigned to her case. It was always the same woman, a large, bustling lady with a reddened face and keen ears, always straining to catch a new scandal. Janice? Janie? Mila found she really didn't care.

"I will send someone to collect her later," he told the nurse, "Make sure she eats."

Jamie...Jane? Snorted and looked over at Mila who grinned back and snapped her teeth.

"Some'ow I don't think that'll be a problem sir," she grumbled.

In long, striding steps he was gone, the nurse turned to her with woollen clad arms crossed over her chest. The thick black material still struggled to contain her heaving bosom.

"Alright freak, I don't want any trouble from you or the dose'll be doubled, y'hear?" she sneered.

Mila was unable to move more than a couple of inches, the hold was far too tight. She remained still for a moment, meeting the woman's scornful gaze with a blank look.

Then she lurched forward violently beneath the unyielding straps, bore her pearly white teeth, and _hissed._

* * *

In an alternate era, it might have been referred to as a 'Gentleman's Club'.

But despite the sweet smoke that permeated the shadows and the array of long limbs reclined around the room, this was not the roaring 20's nor did men sit in suits with cigars and discuss their latest business ventures.

This was The Pit, or rather a subsection of it, at a time when most of the Dauntless had retired to bed. These men sat in plush chairs, gathered in a circular formation as plumes of mist filtered from the end of a wilting cigarette.

Eric drummed his fingers along the black leather surface and smiled languidly at Max's in depth description of stage 2.

"Giant Tulips? You're serious?" he smirked and exhaled a fresh gust of grey.

"I shit you not," Max chuckled, "he was screaming so loud I thought I was going to pop a hernia."

Eric shook his head, eyes rolling as a glass of brandy stopped at his lips.

"That's what happens when you let hippies in to Dauntless, I don't know how you do it."

"It wasn't exactly my decision…?"

"No," Eric set the drink down firmly. "Training, teaching," he waved his hand lazily, "Trying to stop the transfers from shooting themselves in the face."

Max grinned, "Now that was only once, and it's actually pretty cool, like doing it yourself again," he scrutinized the younger man for a moment. "Man you should try it!"

"Me?" Eric arched a brow, "No."

"Why not?"

"They're choosing a new leader this year, _that's _what I have my eye on. Not babysitting initiates."

"You really think they'll pick you?" Max asked and was fixed with a reproachful glare. "No listen, I mean I had to wait _8 years _to even be considered…,"

A new voice chipped in as a younger boy with dark dreads framing his face and a thick metal bar protruding through the stem of his nostrils slapped them both on the back and grabbed Max in a chokehold.

"Don't listen to him Eric," he wheezed as he struggled to keep the leader in a firm grip, "he's just jealous cuz he ranked fourth in his initiation."

"Third actually," Max sneered, rubbing his neck irritably. "And at least I can say I _passed _initiation, just wait till next year Ren. I can't wait to see your skinny ass getting thrown out with the Factionless."

Ren who had yet to undergo his own Aptitude Test, gasped mockingly and fell back in to a free chair, "I'm telling mum you said that."

"Fine," Max shrugged, "I'm a leader now, I could just have you both kicked out."

"You're such a dick," Ren laughed.

"Strike one," his brother warned and was met with resentful grumble.

Eric stretched indulgently and rose from the seat, Ren's surprised voice interrupted him as he turned to leave.

"Hey, where you going?"

"Hank wanted to see me."

"What the hell could he want now?" Max frowned and glanced at his watch.

Eric threw the cig to the ground, crushing it beneath his boot and shrugged.

"Guess I'm going to find out."

* * *

Hank was in the process of massaging rough circles in to his temples when a firm knock sounded at the door that evening.

"Come in."

His wiry form was taut with tension as a familiar figure walked in and stood resolutely at the entrance. There existed the dimmest of lights within the small space, but he'd known who to expect and though the visit instilled wariness within him, Hank was desperate.

"Eric, please take a seat."

A simple black desk kept them a fair distance apart, it was tall, and assisted the older leader as he looked down at the man opposite with what he hoped was a scrutinizing stare.

Eric met his gaze calmly, arching a brow in question when moments passed and still not a word passed between them. Somehow he finally seemed satisfied, leaning back in his chair to speak.

"I have something very important to ask of you."

A draw beneath the table was pulled open; his attention was drawn to the sheet of paper sliding along the surface. Eric could only stare at it blankly as he opened it up see what looked like a school grid, not unlike the ones he'd had back at Erudite.

"My daughter's lesson schedule," Hank explained, "You'll find there, subjects, times and any extracurricular activities in between."

"…And…why exactly is it you want me to have this…?"

"My daughter's a very special girl Eric; it won't be long before she begins her own initiation," Hank walked over to a crystal cabinet and pulled out a glass, he then proceed to fill it to the brim with colourless liquid. "Unfortunately being who she is, it seems to have attracted the wrong attention and I can't guarantee she will even make it that far."

Eric watched as the weary leader threw back his head and downed the swirling substance in a fluid motion.

"So your daughter's being bullied?" Eric asked with a daring hint of derision.

"It would seem that way yes, by who, I'm afraid, remains a mystery."

"What exactly has this got to do with me?"

Hank had been in the middle of refilling his drink when the stream stopped, bottle pausing in mid-air. He fixed the younger man with a strict azure stare.

"I need someone who can keep her safe. We have eyes in Dauntless, so the chances of an attack are slim, but I worry what will happen when she's no longer in the compound."

Eric regarded the man with unabashed shock; this certainly hadn't been what he'd expected. In fact it came to him as a surprise that Hank even had a kid. Was this common knowledge? How had he never heard of this before?

"So you want me to be her what? Personal bodyguard?"

"Essentially, yes."

An uncomfortable pause existed in which Eric questioned the tenacity of the man before him and whether it was worth the risk of calling him out. Hank's own flesh and blood was incapable of the most basic self-defence? What the hell did he expect when it came to initiation?

He could not contain his ire however, as he looked down at the flimsy paper.

_8.00am: Breakfast_

_8.45am: Carpool_

_9.00: Registration…_

"I don't have the time to-"

"You're going up for leadership this year, am I correct?"

Eric's gaze travelled dangerously slow to that of the man before him, fingers whitening against the sheet.

"Yes," he answered, "I am."

"I can't promise anything right now, but I'm sure you can imagine it would work…heavily in your favour should you decide to agree."

Eric wanted nothing more than to snap his fucking neck, and his spoilt little brat too, but it was evident he had no choice in the matter.

"How long will this go on? Until the culprits are found?"

Hank's eyed widened for a moment, it was only for a split second, but Eric honed in on it like a hawk.

"Oh-well-no-it," he sighed, "I'm afraid it won't be that simple. I'm going to need you stay with her until the ceremony."

"A year?" Eric spat.

"11 months to be exact," Hank replied shakily.

He exhaled singularly through his nose, 11 months. It was all that stood between him and leadership. Then he would not have to answer to anybody, especially this simpering fool.

He was halfway to the door when Hank spoke again.

"Mila is currently in our private healing quarters. Janet will escort you there."

"Why is she-"

"It's not your concern," Hank waved his hand non-committedly, "just get her to her dorms safely."

* * *

Janet, it appeared, was a short, rotund oaf of a woman who plodded through the Dauntless corridors with single minded determination. They ascended in to the leader's quarters, a series of archways and subsections, evidently the young girl had a palace of her own already. It was no wonder she was a target.

"Hope you know what ya in for," Janet cackled over her shoulder. "You've certainly got your hands full with this one, that's for sure."

Eric slowed his pace and arched a brow before replying amiably.

"Can't say I'm surprised he's locked her away all this time if she inherited her father's face," he smirked.

Janet grimaced and rifled in her pockets for a rusty set of keys.

"I wish," she muttered, "Stark, raving mad this one is."

Her eyes met his, wide and underlined with dark, purplish circles.

"Absolutely nuts."

She pushed open a heavy steel door, plump face reddening with the effort. The faux infirmary was immediately thrown in to an artificial glow that highlighted the cold, sterile walls and cast sickly shadows on the sleeping figure within.

Eric stiffened; it was not the natural, languid form of a girl cocooned in blankets atop a soft mattress.

This was entrapment.

Mila's chest rose and fell in deep, robotic motions as black leather straps covered the breadth of her wrists, ankles and torso. A floor length dress had bunched up from an earlier struggle, to reveal the freckled brown skin of her thighs; it was such a startling contrast to her weed of a father.

His sharp grey gaze narrowed as he spotted the glimpse of white bandaging beneath the heavy material. The outfit ran all the way up to her chin, swarthy dark silk encasing her arms, but the pale gauze protruded out past her wrists.

Her face was not all sharp regal angles, the stubborn chin and hollowed cheeks he had been expecting. Everything about her from the generous curve of her thighs to the line of her jaw was inherently gentle. The sight should have incensed him, frightened even. It should have filled him with a deep rooted disgust and a vow never to return. This was clearly no ordinary case, and she most certainly was no average brat. Leadership be damned, he should have turned around, and ran.

But Eric was frozen.

And it wasn't in fear or disgust.

An animalistic intuition was being awakened, a sick sort of greed that he had spent years trying to quell. Because nobody really wanted the same things he did, it was always far too _nice. _

Eric just needed to see her eyes; he wanted to watch how she looked aware and breathless against her bonds.

Fuck this creature was sensational.

The drug induced haze seemed to dissipate the moment the dumpy nurse lay one finger on her.

Mila's eyes snapped open, and he was struck then with the final oddity, her right eye stared up, blue and bright like a circular sky and beside it her left eye gazed on in a stark contrast of brown. Her crazed stare followed the older woman's movements intently.

Suddenly her pale pink lips ascended like a curved blade, and she was grinning oh so wide, a convoluted grin upon her dark freckled face.

"Jaaaaanet," she sing-songed lowly, a creepy, provocative whisper. "I dreamed of you."

The nurse inhaled deeply and tugged Mila's dress down to a respectable level, the younger girl's expression never wavered. Janet eventually caught her eye, and pointed a thick, stubby finger in her face.

"Shut it freak, that dose had you out cold and you know it. I don't want to hear any more of your shit!"

Mila stared in wonder at Janet's hand, a wet tongue hung lazily on her bottom lip as she followed it up the nurse's arm and back to her face. The smile returned, and her eyes glinted with malice.

"But Janet it felt so _real,_" she pouted, "You were standing right there. Just as you are now. Only…you were different. Your body, it was deathly blue. And all chopped up, severed chunky pieces that wept. But it's okay," Mila nodded dreamily.

"You were stitched together again, like a big ragdoll," she threw back her head and laughed, loud singular laughs that reverberated along the walls.

"HA! HA! HA!"

Janet bristled with anger, though her face had taken on a sickly pallor as she regarded the crazed girl.

"THAT'S ENOUGH FROM YOU!" she screeched. "I'LL TELL YOUR FATHER ABOUT THIS YOU WEIRD LITTLE-" she spluttered, hands grappling at the air. "PSYCHOBITCH!"

Mila's giggles halted instantly. She regarded the woman with a look very much akin to fear and fell back against the hard platform of her makeshift bed.

It seemed to appease her nurse, and Janet approached carefully to loosen the straps.

Suddenly there was a strange sound, a wheezed inhale followed by a high pitched exhale. To anyone else it would have been nothing but an irritating sound. But to Janet it brought to her, the forlorn memories of her fear simulations, she saw once more the sight of an abandoned carnival and in it a lone clown.

Mila continued to breath in and out a light honking noise like that of a clown's nose, _hoh-haw, hoh-haw, hoh-haw._

"STOP!" the nurse roared.

_Hoh-haw, hoh-haw hoh-haw, hoh-haw._

"THAT'S _IT!_"

Janet threw down the steel buckles of the bed's restraints and fled the room, sausage fingers clapped tightly over her ears.

Mila did not stop until the sound of steel on steel echoed around the room as the door was slammed resolutely.

It was this sudden impact, the imitation of emptiness that made her realize she was not alone at all. And that just wouldn't do.

She turned her head; dark corkscrew curls fell haphazardly over her face as Mila caught sight of an unfamiliar figure.

"Who are you?"


	2. Frustration

Chapter 2

* * *

He looked like a silhouette.

Oh Mila could see his face; most certainly she could see every detail, from the opaque hollows in his ears to the inked patterns along his neck.

But somehow the Dauntless attire looked darker on him, and fitted, like it had been made to meld to his very being.

Well it was all good and well going in to detail, what should she describe first, the haunting grey of his eyes? Or the chiselled set of his jaw? _Bo-ring._

Mila snorted to herself and finally, once her brief perusal was over, dragged her odd gaze away and left him baffled at her indifference.

Eric frowned at her imprudent tone; this girl really did need to learn some manners. Despite this, he tried to give the slightest semblance of a smile and moved in to her line of sight to introduce himself.

"My name's Eric," he said, a smooth charming drawl that had had his previous conquests drooling in moments. It wasn't cockiness, not really, it was almost disappointing for him how sweet it had all been, how average. "I've been assigned for your protection."

"Oh fabulous," she yawned and stretched as best she could against the restraints which only served to draw his eyes to the delicious friction her breasts created against the unyielding leather. His darkened gaze travelled back to hers where she now regarded him with thinly veiled curiosity.

"Do you think you could possibly remove these for me?"

Suddenly the weight of his assignment felt heavy in his hand, the sheet depicting her schedule now lay crumpled beneath his fingers.

He unbuckled the bonds with practiced ease, though her keen eyes registered no such fact as she jumped to her feet.

And fell instantly on to her face.

A large palm reached down to her, she stared at the faint lines etched in to soft flesh. Mila wondered what on earth he could mean by offering such a random part of his person. Feeling that there was really little else to be done, she inclined her head and bit his finger.

Eric sharply withdrew his hand and stared at the chit in brief shock. Though it soon melted away to something else entirely as he looked down to see the dark indents her teeth had created.

"Do that again and I won't be so forthcoming," he warned, though it lacked the conviction he really wanted. And all he wanted to do was punish.

The thoughts were always gone before they were really there, because it didn't make any sense and he could not give in to them.

She was Hank's daughter for fuck sake.

Mila did not meet his eye, simply stared at the place where his hand had been before rising shakily to her feet.

The dark swarthy material dropped down and swished around her ankles, the dress was conservative in its coverage and yet clung to her like a second skin. Riotous curls bounced against her dotted cheeks, with a defiant glare she snatched the schedule from his hands and looked at Eric with a taunting smirk.

"So why did he send you to me? You must be pretty dispensable."

"Hardly, and believe me sweetheart, there are plenty things I'd like to be doing right now and babysitting you isn't one of them," Eric sneered but still reached out to steady her waist as she stumbled on numb feet. "At least I can see why I'm needed, you're a mess."

Mila edged away from his hand and bore her teeth at him, daring him to try and follow her anywhere. It was a sound technique, one she had developed from an early age to ward off any who came too close.

Eric backed off from the display and shook his head, what the hell had he done to deserve this? She eyed him suspiciously before turning swiftly away. Mila's faux bravado faltered however as she pulled uselessly at the steel door and could not make it budge.

The structure groaned as she threw her back in to the effort and heaved at it, a faint sheen of condensation lining her brow. Finally it all became too much as she huffed angrily and kicked it, Mila fell to the floor in a limbless heap.

Eric walked over calmly and clicked it open without so much as a seconds thought. Mila looked up at him in outrage and balked at the amused arch of his brow.

When they reached her door, which was built in the same sturdy impenetrable fashion as the last, Mila turned to him with her head held high and a cold look in her eye.

The sight might have been almost daunting if she didn't have to crane her neck to do so.

He observed unashamedly the dark caramel tone of her skin and decided that everything she was, it had to have been a result of the mother. All but the single blue eye that noted his lingering stare.

"Yes, well, thank you _ever so," _she sniffed, "I'll see you here tomorrow morning. Oh do you think you could bring me an apple muffin whilst you're at it? Actually make that two, I missed dinner. Oh and a maybe a cup of tea."

He stared at her incredulously. The gall of this girl!

"Well…Goodnight!" she battled firmly with the door for a moment more before slamming it directly in his face.

* * *

"Hank has a daughter?" Ren exclaimed through a mouthful of bacon, the contents of which sprayed enthusiastically on to his brother's face. Max glared at the younger boy and wiped a hand begrudgingly across his cheek.

"Apparently, complete headcase too," Eric muttered.

"Why would he be so open with you about it? If I had a kid in Dauntless getting their ass kicked I sure as hell wouldn't tell anyone," Max snorted and ripped in to his toast.

"But she's choosing next year right?" Ren's brow furrowed, "I think I'd know if I'd spent the last 12 years going to school with the daughter of our…," he trailed off, eyes widening.

"What, what is it?!" Max watched as his younger brother's mouth hung open in shock.

"It can't be," he mumbled, though his lips began to creep in to a smile.

"Well don't keep us in suspense," Eric drawled, a roar of laughter erupted from two tables down as a group of teenagers pelted each other with oatmeal. Rolling his eyes at the commotion, he turned back to Ren who was scanning the hall eagerly.

"Freak," he laughed, shaking his head in disbelief.

"What did you just call me?" Max leaned in menacingly.

"Not you jackass, Hank's kid."

"Mila?" Eric supplied.

"Right her," Ren chuckled, "Everyone just calls her freak. Girl never speaks to anyone and she's always moping around in that mourning dress of hers. It makes sense but the fact she's actually Hank's-" he broke in to fresh peals of laughter.

"Oh god, wait until everyone hears about this!"

Eric took action then, grabbing Ren by the collar he jerked him up in a choking grip.

"No. You're not going to tell anyone. Leadership rests on everything I do for the next 11 months, which includes keeping her _out_ of trouble. And I _do not _need you screwing that up."

Ren nodded as his face began to turn a mottled shade of red, never had he seen his friend show such unwarranted aggression. Eric glanced at his watch and released him suddenly causing the boy to fall back and gasp in deep, heaving breaths.

"I have to go."

* * *

Burnished coils had been gathered atop her head and flew angrily against her temple as she paced from one end of the corridor to the next. It threw him again, momentarily, when she turned to fix him with an impatient glare. He'd simply never seen eyes so startlingly odd, they were an unsettling contrast against her light brown skin.

The dress she wore was identical to the night before, he steeled himself for her irritability with a smile and approached calmly to take her shoulder bag. She shied away from him and hugged it protectively to her chest.

"Took you long enough," she snarled.

He gritted his teeth and allowed her to lead the way, snorting derisively as her heavy skirts dragged along the floor.

"It's a wonder you've made it this far when even your clothing is injurious."

Mila shot him a dark look over her shoulder. "I'll have you know this ensemble is a fine example of practica-AH!" she topped forward as her boot made heavy contact with the trailing silk.

A strong arm looped tightly around her waist, she stumbled back in to his chest and gasped in discomfort. Mila squirmed out of his hold instantly and found no resistance; Eric was watching her amusedly when she spun to face him.

"What _exactly_ do you expect me to say when people question your constant hovering?"

"I doubt that will be a problem, from what I've heard you've made quite a name for yourself already," he smirked.

Her mouth fell open with another retort when a furious growl sounded from the depth of her stomach, her expression softened as she looked at him questioningly.

"I don't suppose you…,"

Eric produced three energy bars, they were splayed out in one fist and despite her keen ravenousness, it was impossible not to provoke him.

"That's not a muffin."

A muscle worked in his jaw as he took a slow step forward, he held out the bars but drew back just as her clawed hand reached out. Mila's grappling attempts brought her face inches from his as he smirked down at her teasingly.

A demand grew heavy on the tip of his tongue, a hint of the authoritarian he so diligently supressed. Her movements came to a halt, as she recognized in that moment an unspoken dynamic, he was no longer the nauseatingly charming bodyguard and she was not the bossy charge. Indignation melted from her features as she waited for something, an order, a command.

He said not a word however as the bars were pressed firmly in to her hand, he simply stepped away with eyes trained on hers, a victorious glint in the mercurial depths.

In a desperate attempt to ignore the way her heart pounded furiously in her chest, Mila stormed once more down the empty hall and pried open the wrapper.

"Wrong way," Eric drawled as she charged off to join the others on the roof.

"Excuse me?" she replied haughtily, "I believe the train is this way."

"You're not catching the train; you'll be riding in the car. With me."

"I don't-"

"Hi Eric," a sultry voice emerged from behind, Mila exhaled impatiently as he turned to greet the young woman with a smile.

"Imogen," he said amiably. "Shouldn't you be with the initiates?"

Imogen's eyes slid over Mila's form apprehensively, but her winning grin remained in place as she stepped forward to drum her fingers playfully against his chest.

"Actually Lauren will be taking over from me now, the Stiff and I had a discussion and decided my skills were best served elsewhere."

"His name's Four Im," he scolded, "you know we don't talk about our old Factions here."

"Oh come on," she leaned in closer and gave him a coy look, "You hate him as much as I do, always walking around like he's got a stick up his ass."

Few things riled him up quite like presumption, and boy did this girl excel at it.

"Did you need something?" he asked coldly.

"Well I just wanted to know if you were busy l-" Imogen paused and narrowed her eyes as Mila stared at her with unabashed interest.

"What!" she snapped.

"You have a blister on your…," Mila gestured to her chest area, the older girl looked down to where a thick rubber wad protruded out of her bra.

"That's not a blister you fucking moron, th-, don't touch it!" Imogen slapped Mila's hand down as she reached up to poke the strange floppy bag hanging from her vest.

Eric laughed, a low, uncontrollable chuckle as Mila held up her hands in surrender and shot him a _'whoops'_ grin.

"What, were you raised in a barn?!" Imogen hissed, tucking the breast fillet back in and pushing her bra up as a red blush travelled up her neck.

"I'm sorry; it's just that looks awfully painful, I thought you might need to get it looked at-"

"Don't give me that you sly bitch, you know I always heard you were a fucking weirdo but now I-" a crumb flew at her temple, cutting off any further words.

"Hmm?" Mila asked confusedly, breaking off another piece of breakfast bar and flicking it at the girl's head.

"Stop!"

"Stop what?" _Bam_, one hit right on the noggin.

"ARGH!" Imogen threw her hands up in disgust and cringed away from another airborne crumb, she looked irritably up at Eric.

"Call me when the freak's not around," and with that she stalked off, leaving Eric to turn to the girl who nibbled at the rest of her bar indulgently.

"Can't you just be nice?" he sighed.

Mila arched a brow and followed him to the car that sat parked waiting for them. The haughty expression had returned as he opened the door and waited for her to slide in first.

"Where would be the fun in that?" she smiled wickedly.

* * *

"_Get back in the car!" _Eric growled as Mila arched backwards out of the window, chestnut strands whipped wildly around her face as the vehicle moved in hasty pursuit of the school.

A manic giggle tore through the air as his hands enclosed around her waist to pull her forward only for the momentum to pull her straight back again, the dizzying movement was enchanting.

She shook her head and shifted further out of the window until her hair was almost grazing the road, dainty freckled nose only moments away from being smeared across the road by an oncoming truck before Eric wrenched her back in.

"_Have you lost your mind?!"_ he snarled, stretching over her to jam the close button. Mila's mouth opened with the beginnings of a sneered retort but snapped shut almost instantly.

"Damn, I hadn't thought you'd noticed," she sniffed noisily, wiping her nose in a shamelessly vulgar fashion. "Dropped it it in the hamburger mix when the cooks weren't looking."

Eric's mouth twitched with the semblance of a smile.

"Just think. The entire Dauntless Army feeding on my brains."

"Strangely I'd rather not," he drawled.

A surprised scream tore from her throat, causing both to jump as the chauffer's moustached face appeared at her window.

"We have arrived Madam," he announced through the glass. Mila shrunk further in to her seat and attempted to shield her eyes from his benign gaze. The chauffer sent Eric a look of questioning who in turn shrugged and made a loopy gesture at his temple.

"I can see that," Mila grumbled.

"Right get out, school starts in five," Eric began to assist her out of the seat but was shoved away angrily.

"I don't _need _your help!" she hissed before kicking the door open and storming out.

Both men watched with rapt interest as she neared the school entrance and proceeded to walk straight in to the glass door.

"You've got yourself a handful there Sir."

Rubbing her head irritably Mila glanced around to ensure she had gone unseen, she met their stares with an indignant growl before ripping at the handle and disappearing in a flurry of curls.

Eric turned his gaze away and shook his head as though trying to shake off the inevitable waves of exhaustion to come.

"Just Drive."


End file.
